The Best of Friends
by thetwistedcelestials
Summary: Scott and Stiles have each others' backs, so here's four of the countless times that Scott has been the best of friends and one of the many times Stiles has done the same.


-  
Age 8

"Oh...crud..." Stiles said, as he watched the frisbee fly over Scott's head. In any other situation, the boys might have appreciated the way the frisbee sliced through the air, how it perfectly it cut a path through the sky, the rare and precious throw that, unfortunately, sailed right over Scott's head and landed in The Yard.

"Stiles, tell me that our frisbee didn't just land in The Yard," Scott said patiently, still staring at the fence hiding their frisbee, as though hoping it would fly back out of its own accord.

"Scott, our frisbee didn't just land in The Yard," Stiles replied (so nefarious was The Yard, that even when spoken kids around the block could hear the capital letters).

Scott turned to glare at his friend. "Stiles! That's our last frisbee! Three frisbees in less than two weeks!"

Stiles shrugged sheepishly. "Hey, it's not my fault I'm a great frisbee thrower. Some guys just have the talent." He huffed on his fingers and polished them on his shirt.

Scott grumbled about "talent" not being the word for it. The Yard was the neighborhood graveyard of baseballs, frisbees, model airplanes, just about anything that could and would fly through the air. If it when into The Yard, it was gone for good. No kid had ever gotten anything from The Yard and lived to tell the tal-

"S-Stiles!" Scott shouted. "What are you doing?!" Scott watched in horror as his best friend heaved himself up to look over the fence. The reason no kid ever went near The Yard (except on a dare) was because of _him_. Cerebus, the dog that guarded the graveyard.

"I don't think the mutt is around, Scott. He's being way too quiet. And...hey! There are our frisbees!" Stiles pushed himself so he was sitting on the fence. "I bet Cerebus is at the vet or something." Stiles paused. "I bet I can get our stuff. Be right back!" Without a second thought, the boy dropped-off the fence. Into The Yard.

Scott stood and gaped for several seconds. _Did that really...? Did he just...?_ "Stiles!" Scott ran over to the fence, half-fearing his best friend's dying screams would reach him at any moment. "Stiles! What are you doing?!" Scott whisper/shouted. Get out of there!" Heart hammering in his chest, he waited to for his friend's response. Ba-bump...ba-bamp...ba-bump...and then, a sound. Scott strained his ears, slowly pressing himself closer to the fence to listen. _Was that...? Oh...crud..._ A low, menacing growl. The kind of growl that sank into your bones, that bore into your head, a growl that whispered about your impending doom.

"Scott?!" Stiles stage-whispered. "Scott, I think Cerebus is staring at me. And he looks...hungry..." The growl suddenly ceased. About to breathe a sigh of relief, Scott was horrified to hear the growl replaced with a deep, vicious barking and Stiles' voice screaming.

Without giving himself a chance to think, Scott was over the fence and in The Yard; Stiles was running as hard has he could, trying to dodge the hellhound, but with each second Cerebus was gaining on him. Running towards them, Scott grabbed the nearest item he could find (_Hey, we lost this ball three months ago..._ some part of Scott's mind not blanketed in white thrumming panic thought), he threw it as hard as he could at Cerebus; it hit with a muted thump.

"Hey! Over here you ugly mutt!" Cerebus turned at the sound, his barking stopping; he looked down at the ball slowly rolling away and then back up at Scott. Later, Stiles would swear he saw Cerebus's eyes glow red, but Scott didn't have a chance to see as he was scrambling to the fence after Stiles. Just as he jumped to reach the top, a sharp pain dug into his side. Screaming, he flailed his arms; he hit something soft and the next thing he knew, the pressure was released and there was a whining sound behind him. Ignoring it, Scott scrambled back over the fence and out of The Yard.

Laying on the ground panting, Scott tried to shake the feeling that his life had just flashed before his eyes (_Why doesn't anything ever happen in this town?_ that rebellious, non-panicked part of him asked again. Scott told it to shut up). A shadow fell over him; he looked up to see a huge grin on his best friend's face.

"That. Was. Awesome!" Stiles exclaimed excitedly. "Dude, did you see the size of that dog? And how fast I was running? I swear, he actually got _bigger_ after you hit him with that ball! That was a sweet shot too! We are totally going pro, dude!" Ignoring his friend for the moment, Scott lifted his shirt to see the angry red marks on his side; a few pinpricks of blood were welling up. Groaning, Scott let his shirt and head fall back to the ground.

"Did we at least get the frisbee back?"

"Oh...uh...my bad?"

"Stiles..."

-  
Age 13

Stiles blinked, looking at the lumpy package on his bed. He ripped open the envelope on top of the wrapping.

_Stiles,_

Now we can stay in touch, even if he takes me away. I'll beep you when I get there.

-Scott 

He untied the string and almost dropped the package in surprise. Eyes almost bugging out, he stared at the walkie-talkie in his hands. The package proclaimed it was the longest range walkie-talkie available commercially. "Developed by the army!" the package screamed. "Up to 100 mile range!" it shouted. "Morse code enabled!" bright colored labeling cried (Stiles wasn't quite sure how the last was going to be of use, but still...). It was a serious walkie-talkie. He read Scott's note again. And Scott must have gotten one too.

_How had he...?_ Stiles' eyes widened in shock. _He didn't..._ Tearing open the package, he ran down to the kitchen to find batteries to put inside. Finally finding them, he ran back upstairs. Hands almost shaking, he inserted the batteries, clicked the radio on (nothing but static), and waited. It was a half an hour drive, but Stiles was going to wait.

-

*Beep*

Stiles sat-up with a gasp, blinking. He must have fallen asleep. Did he just hear...

*Beep*

Lunging forward, he grabbed at the walkie-talkie. Fumbling, he finally managed to hold down the talk button.

"Scott? Scott? Can you hear me? Scott?" Panicking, he wondered if Scott's dad had taken him too far for the walkie-talkies to work. He put the device down to frantically search for the package. Wasn't there an instructions booklet in there? Where had he put it?

"tzzzk-et go of the button. Stiles? Stiles, can you hear me? Let go of the talk button."

Lunging for the walkie-talkie again, Stiles pressed the talk button down. "Scott? I'm here. Can you hear me?" Stiles remembered to let go of the button this time.

"tzzzk-Yeah, I can hear you Stiles. Loud and clear. Over."

Stiles couldn't help but grin. "You're such a dork. Over."

"Roger that. Over."

"Why do we have to say over? Over."

"I don't know. Who was Roger? Over."

Stiles could practically hear the smile in his friend's voice. "Maybe the guy who invented walkie-code? Who knows?" Stiles bit his bottom lip, feeling a suspicious burning, tickling behind his eyes. Clearing his throat, he pushed the talk button again. "How's the new place? As bad as I thought? Are you ready to consider my plan yet? Over."

"Stiles, as awesome as you are, I don't think that 'staying as a hermit in your backyard sofa fort, living off of the land, eating grubs and roots' is quite as much fun as you think it would be. Over."

"Tch, says you. I bet you would love it. You've always smelled a bit like a hippie anyways. Over."

"Well, I doubt your dad would appreciate it. …mine either, really. ...over."

"Yeah." Stiles sighed. "Why did you have to go with him? No, no, nevermind. Sorry, I didn't mean to..." Scott didn't say anything. Stiles waited, fiddling with the controls, trying to see what else the walkie-talkie could do, trying to find something to break the awkward silence he caused (sometimes he mouth ran away from him; his dad said it was going to get Stiles in trouble. Scott said it had already got them in trouble plenty of times). After a few minutes, he gave up. "Are you still there Scott? Over."

"Yes. You didn't say 'over', so I wasn't sure if what you were saying was over. If you don't say over, I don't know if it's over. Over."

"Hey, we're never going to be over. And stop saying 'over.' Over."

"But then how will you know when my sentence is over? Over."

"Dork."

"Brat."

The walkie-talkie hissed and crackled. Stiles lay back on his bed, pondering his next words. He pressed the call button. "Hey Scott? You still there? Over."

"Yeah. I'm still here. Over."

"...you used your savings to buy these, huh? Over."

"Yeah, well. Not much point in buying that new Nintendo if you're not around, right? Over."

"...you'll make other friends. Could've used it with them, right? Over." Stiles liked to pretend he didn't get a weird stomachache when he said that.

Scott's laugh crackled over the connection. "Nah...I didn't want to get too far ahead of you. I'm already creaming you as it is. Over."

Stiles couldn't help but return the laugh. "Yeah right! If by 'creaming me' you mean getting your butt handed to you. Over."

"Uh, not according to the last tally. What was the score, three wins to about a gazillion losses for you?"

Stiles rolled his eyes.

"Besides, even if I do make other friends, I only have one best friend. Over."

Stiles rubbed at his eyes; dust must've fallen in them or something, he thought, sniffing. He should really clean his room (might make his dad happy too).

"Psst, I was talking about you. By the way. In case you didn't catch that. Over."

"Yeah...I… got it." Stiles paused. "...thanks Scott."

"Hey, what're friends for?" Stiles could practically see Scott's shrug. It made him smile.

"So…you'll be in school tomorrow, right? 'cause I don't know if I'll be able to make it through that English test without my best friend. Over."

"Yeah, I'm taking the bus. Gah, are you ready for that test? I can't believe…"

Stiles listened to Scott talk about school. _Six months…we can do that. Easy._

-  
Age 14

"Scott...how do we know we aren't gay?"

Scott blinked. He should really be used to Stiles by now, but somehow the guy still managed to surprise him. "Um...what?"

Stiles sat up on the bed. "How do we know we're not gay? Danny just came out as gay. How did he know that he _was_ gay?"

"...because he likes kissing guys?" Scott hazarded, swiveling in the computer chair.

"Yes, but...how did he figure that out?"

Scott had a feeling he knew where this was going.

"I mean, neither of us has had much luck with girls yet, right?" Scott had to concede that, no, they weren't exactly the most eligible dates. But they were only fourteen. There was time.

"And, sure, girls are awesome and we're only fourteen," (Scott had gotten used to Stiles reading his mind a long time ago). "...so we have time to get dates and kiss girls and junk. But, you know...how do we _know_ we're going to like it? Or how do we know we _wouldn't_ like kissinga guy?"

Scott gave Stiles a sidelong look. His best friend was chewing his lip lightly and jigging his foot. His eyes were focused on something far away, while his hand tapped a slightly different rhythm from his foot. Scott translated: _I have an idea, but I'm not sure that Scott will go along with it without panicking_. "You have an idea." (Stiles wasn't the only one who could read minds. Sometimes.)

Stiles looked at Scott, grinning manically. "Well, I was thinking this: we should figure it out." Scott didn't say anything, waiting for the part that he might freak out about. "So, I think we should try making out." Scott blinked. "With each other," Stiles added, in case Scott didn't catch that part. Scott blinked again. He didn't say anything, just looked at Stiles, blinking.

"Scott? Are you freaking out?"

Scott wasn't entirely sure what his reaction was. Oddly enough, this was probably one of Stiles less crazy schemes. Crazy, but in a low-key, manageable way. _Should I have been expecting that? Was I expecting that?_ Scott wasn't sure if he felt more peturbed by how unwacky the idea sounded or the idea itself. Stiles interrupted his musings by waving a hand in front of his face. "Scott? You in there? Did I break you?"

In response, Scott turned to face his best friend more fully. He looked into Stiles' eyes and gave a firm nod. "Okay. Let's do this." His goofy grin was mirrored by Stiles full-blown, megawatt smile. Scott scooted the chair closer to the bed, closer to Stiles. "So...how do we do this? Like you kindly pointed out, neither of us has any experience." Stiles opened his mouth. "And I still say getting CPR from the lifeguard when we were eight doesn't count." Stiles pouted in response (he would claim it was a serious frown, but Scott maintained it was a pout). Scott let Stiles tug him off the chair and sat on the bed next to him. "Should we lock the door?"

"Dad's going to be at work for a while," he said, though he got up to shut the door anyway. Stiles sat down on the bed again, just a little farther away from Scott. "Are you nervous?" he asked.

Scott shrugged. His heart was beating a little quicker, but he also felt...comfortable? In an odd sort of way. _If this gets weird, at least I'm going through it with Stiles_. He liked that they were going through this together. "I'm...I don't know. Nervous? And...glad it's you. You?" Scott reached over to still Stiles' bouncing knee. "This was your idea." Stiles nodded, knee still gently straining to bounce under Scott's hand. Scott squeezed gently, trying to communicate something. Reassurance? Humor? A question of just how this was going to happen? He didn't really know, but Stiles seemed to get the message, whatever it was; he scooted closer to Scott, disloding the hand on his knee. He hesitated before scooting close enough that they were almost touching. Scott rested a hand on Stiles' knee again; he could feel a blush moving its way up his neck while nervous butterflies bounced around in his stomach. He shifted slightly to angle himself towards Stiles. They both took a deep breath, huffing out a chuckle when their eyes met.

Scott licked his lips, nervously holding Stiles' gaze. He reached up to rub the fuzz on his friend's head. "I remember when you started buzzing your hair; I had the weirdest urge to rub your head for the longest time." They laughed nervously at the memory. Letting his hand rest on Stiles' shoulder, Scott bent his head towards Stiles. He leaned forward to meet Scott; their noses brushed, which made them both giggle again but their heads stayed close together. Scott felt his friend's quick, shallow breaths ghosting on his cheek. Stiles hands curled on Scott's back, his fingertips just barely grazing the skin. Letting his head sink down onto Stiles' shoulder, Scott let out a deep breath. He felt Stiles rubbing gentle circles over his shirt. Inhale, exhale. Inhale, exhale. Inhale, exhale...Again, he felt that weirdly comfortable tendril curling around his stomach. Stiles' nose felt cold against his neck; he mumbled something to Scott.

Turning his head (lifting it seemed like too much effort), Scott asked, "What?"

Stiles turned his head, leaving his eyes hidden in Scott's neck. "I asked if you wanted to...um...lay down."

Scott nodded in response, tugging on Stiles to pull them both horizontal. He toed off his shoes, while trying to move closer to Stiles; the odd, comfortable feeling was lulling him to sleep, for some reason. Looking up, he saw Stiles warm brown eyes nervously looking down at him. Blinking slowly, Scott's hand moved to cup his friend's face, gently stroking his cheek. _Soft_. His heart was pounding, a rhythmic, beating sound within the loud, silent, roar filling his head. He pushed his head up, up towards Stiles and pressed their lips together. Stiles gave a small, surprised gasp. Scott opened his lips with Stiles, snaking out a tongue to touch the warm lips. Stiles jerked, their teeth clicked against each other; they gave into the urge to giggle nervously, but Stiles' lips soon found Scott's again. They took the kiss slower this time; soft lips, a little too wet, and a lot of tongues and warm and lashes brushing against cheeks and...and the tendril grew in Scott's stomach, lulling him even further towards sleep.

They broke the kiss, their eyes opening slowly to look at each other.

"That was...nice."

Stiles nodded, a thoughtful look on his face. "Yeah..."

Scott nodded mutely, tongue darting out on his lips. He could taste the sugary-sweet cereal Stiles snacked on before bed.

"But...hm..."

Scott blinked, sitting up. "What? Was it...I mean...was I bad?"

"No, no, no...it's not that." Stiles pressed his lips together, like he did when he was thinking hard. "It's just...I mean, it was nice. But it wasn't, like...'fire in my loins.' It was just, you know, nice."

Scott rolled his eyes. "Well, gee, thanks. You didn't exactly light any fires yourself." He couldn't stop the blush that was working its way up his neck. "So, I guess that means we're not gay?"

"Hm..." Stiles thought for a few moments. "Inconclusive."

Scott smacked him with a pillow. "What? All that and you're calling this inconclusive?"

"Well, I mean, what if it's just you? What if I would have been all crazy awesome if it was another guy?" Stiles looked out to the distance. "I wonder if Danny would help us out...he's pretty cute."

Scott just groaned in response, falling back on the bed. "Why do I put up with you?"

The next morning, the boys ate their cereal while Stiles' dad read the paper and sipped his orange juice. Just as he pulled the glass behind the paper, Stiles piped up. "So last night, Scott and I figured out that we're not gay for each other."

As Stiles pounded the Sheriff on the back, Scott put his head down on his arms and groaned, "Really, Stiles? Really?"

-  
Age 15

What are the effects of overdosing on Adderall? One side effect (though it's incidence rate is unknown) are hallucinations. Perhaps when Stiles is first perscribed the medicine, he has an 'episode' in-class and Scott, who may have seen one of them before, is the one who has to be there to help him through it (i.e. orders everyone out of the classroom, huddles Stiles into a corner and tries to keep him calm while Stiles' dad/Scott's mom is called to deal with it however it needs to be dealt with medically).

Different idea: there are short-acting and long-acting forms of the ADHD stimulants. What if Stiles was started on the short acting version and started acting out again during class in the afternoon?

Stiles was furiously copying down the notes Ms. Jensen was spewing at them. Glancing down at his own notes, Scott corrected his thought: Hopefully Stiles was taking notes, because Scott's notes were...sparse, to be generous. He was busy trying to keep track of Stiles. So far, the other teen seemed to be doing okay today. Normally, Stiles was a bit ahead of his classes, when he bothered to keep up, and he would be staring off into space or reading a book or doodling. Today was the first day he had started taking medication. Scott had been a little nervous; he spent a lot of time last night making his mom tell him the potential side effects to look out for.

_Insomnia, decreased appetite, weight loss, irritability_ Scott recited them again as he glanced at Stiles again. History was the first class they had together since lunch. Stiles hadn't said much about his morning classes. Scott frowned, remembering. Stiles _had_ seemed a little grumpier than usual. _Though maybe that was just the pop quiz he was complaining about in math?_ And he had only been picking at his lunch today.

_Loss of appetite, irritability..._ Scott sighed, looking down at his notes and then the clock. _Shoot..._ Shaking his head, he tried to focus on his notes again. Dates and facts washed over the staring teens ("And in the early days of the Republic...arena was used to keep the poor entertained...most powerful army in the world...") _At least, I hope he's taking notes. Maybe he's just doodling?_ Scott looked over at Stiles, trying to figure out whether he was writing notes or not. _Hopefully it's not another off-topic tangent..._ Glancing at his own notes again, Scott shook his head. _Shoot. _Picking up his pencil, Scott was determined to concentrate for the rest of class.

_Stiles is fine. I just gotta focus myse-_

BRIIIIIIIIIIIIIING

_Craaap..._

"Alright class. Don't forget, that's going to be on the quiz later this week." Ms. Jensen reminded them over the sounds of zippers and rustling paper.

Scott groaned quietly, leaning his head back. _Man, I didn't catch any of that._ He felt a hand on his shoulder.

"You okay dude?" Scott opened his eyes, seeing Stiles looking over Scott's poor attempt at note-taking. Stiles raised an eyebrow. "Man...and everyone thought I was the one who has trouble focusing."

Scott grinned a little. "Ugh, yeah. Think I could borrow your notes?"

"What, and rob you of the opportunity to do your own work? Learn life lessons, take responsibility for yourself, etctera, etcetera?" Stiles said as he started shuffling Scott's notes into a pile.

"Right. Life lessons." Scott replied, taking the bundle of papers from Stiles. "How are you...you know...you feeling?"

Stiles looked around as they walked out the door, as though checking if anyone was listening. "I don't know. Better? Weird? Different?" His stomach rumbled. "Man, why did I skip lunch? I'm starving!"

Scott reached into his backpack and pulled out the extra sandwich he had packed. "Here. I made an extra."

"Why are do you have a sandwich in your backpack? Trying to bulk up for lacrosse?" he asked, unwrapping the sandwich.

Scott shrugged, then made a face. He didn't want Stiles to know he was worrying about him. _Oh man, Lacrosse try-outs..._ Stiles caught the look, nudging his shoulder as he said, "Relax! We have plenty of time to practice."

That statement received the blank look it deserved. "Um, Stiles? Have you been going to the same practices that I have? 'cause...yeah."

The boys had made a target, to help them practice their aim. Scott had spent an hour (not to mention his allowance) painting it and sticking it on a tree in the backyard. If the tryouts were going to be about hitting a target fixed to a tree...they would be lucky to not get laughed off the field. Trying to get the ball past a goalie...yeah, no.

Scott shook his head. _School first. Mom's gonna kill me if I bring home anything less than a 'B+'._ "So...can I borrow your notes later?"

"Duh. You coming over later? Or do you want to meet at your place?"

"Both. Either. Whichever." *BRIIIIIIIIIIIIIING* "Shoot! Later."

Age 17

"Man, can you believe it?"

"Believe what?"

"It's been, like, a year!"

"A year since...what?" Scott said, used to Stiles' starting conversations in the middle of a thought.

"A year since...you know..." Stiles pretended like he was holding onto something and chomping on it.

Scott gave him a bemused look. "...food? What, what are you doing?"

Stiles rolled his eyes. "Man, this is why I don't play charades with you." He says it fondly (at least, Scott is pretty sure it's fondly; Stiles is pretty used to slowing down for people who, you know, can't read minds. Though sometimes they do get a twin-thing going on...)

"It's, like, a week until the one year anniversary. Of, you know...rawr." Stiles gnawed on air again.

"...still not getting it dude." (Clearly, this was not one of those times).

Stiles slapped his shoulder lightly. "Dude, what, big, life-altering (and occasionally life-threatening, thank you very much Mr. Anger Management), event has happened to us in the past year?" Stiles looked at him expectantly.

Scott thought about it. In the past year he met a fabulous girl who, for some reason, was totally in love with him (Scott kindly ignored Stiles' muttering about his 'goofy, Alison face'; he did not have an 'Alison' face). Life alteri- Oh...oohhhh.

"Ah! Ah! Yeah, now you got it. The one year anniversary" Stiles grabbed Scott's side "...of your bite."

Scott jumped. "Augh, Stiles! TIcklish!"

"Nom, nom, nom!" Stiles, of course, kept tickling him, because he had no qualms about making Scott look like a giggling idiot at school.

"Ahahhaha...ahha...Stiles! Stop!" Scott tried moving away, crashing into the lockers in the process. "Sti-les!"

"Aw, puppy doesn't like getting his belly rubbed?" Stiles said, grinning unrepetently.

Scott scowled. "No, puppy does not like getting his belly rubbed."

"Ha! I bet Alison would say something different if I asked her." (Scott needed to find a way to keep Stiles from asking her that. "Hey, what're you two going to do for your anniversary anyway? I was kind of thinking we could celebrate the whole 'bite' deal, but I don't want to get in the way of your plans."

Scott blinked at him. "...what?"

Stiles blinked in return. "...what-what?"

Scott continued looking at him blankly.

"You're anniversary. With Alison?" Stiles asked slowly.

"Oh...right...that..." _...crap._

Stiles just looked at him in disbelief. "...you forgot."

"Um..."

"Do you have a plan?"

"No."

"Gifts?"

"No."

"Ideas?"

"No."

"Inklings of inspiration?"

"No."

"So, you have no plan, no gifts, and no ideas. You have...nothing for your anniversary."

"...I have you?" Scott said sheepishly (and hopefully).

Stiles grinned widely at that, throwing an arm across Scott's shoulders. "And you are SO lucky for that!"

Pulling into the Stilinski's driveway, Alison took a deep breath before shifting into park. She glanced at herself in the rearview mirror, checking to make sure her hair was still in place. She was trying not to get her hopes up (really, it's fine if he forgot. Not a big deal; they've had other things going on) but, given how many times she had caught her boyfriend and his best friend whispering together the past couple of days (and then suspiciously stopping when she approached them) she had a feeling that tonights' "study date" with Stiles wasn't going to be about school. She couldn't help the ridiculous grin from spreading across her face. _No, calm down. Don't think about it._ she told herself firmly. _After all, our anniversary isn't until next week. Though...it would be less suspicious..._ Alison shook her head, trying to shake those thoughts (it wasn't working).

She stepped out of the car (and if that was a little harder because she was wearing her favorite pair of raised heel boots she may or may not have had stashed in her car to wear on her study date, well, sometimes a girl just liked looking nice), grabbed her bag (they did need to work on that project after all), and headed to the front door.

Ringing the doorbell, she heard a muffled shout and then what sounded like some running. The door opened just enough to let Stiles stick half his body through the door. "Alison!" he said breathlessly. "Hi. Hey there. Hi. What's up?"

Alison tried holding back a giggle (she failed) at Stiles' face; there was a smear of a red sauce on his cheek and the tip of his nose was covered in flour. He was wearing a bright red apron, and from the looks of it, there were some fresh stains on it.

"Hey Stiles. I'm here for our study date? Remember?" She caught a waft of something from inside and took a deeper breath. "Mmm...that smells good. Are you cooking in there?" Her face was starting to hurt from grinning so widely.

Stiles narrowed his eyes, then sighed, before smiling and shaking his head sheepishly. "So...uh...yeah...cooking...You've totally figured it out, haven't you? Take it out of the oven, it's going to burn!" The last was said under his breath in a fierce whisper, his eyes darting inside before meeting Alison's eyes again. She really didn't even try to stop the giggle this time.

"So..." she said, titling her head and pulling her hair to one side. "Can I...come in?"

Stiles pulled open the door so he could fully step outside. He matched her, grin for grin. "Actually, I was thinking we could study in the backyard. You know, in the fresh air, clear night, see some stars..." They both glanced up at the clear sky, the moon a barest sliver in the sky. "It'll be...nice. I'll, uh, meet you around the back?" He asked, gesturing to the side of the house.

Alison nodded. "Yeah, okay. That does sounds nice." She walked over the dewy lawn, taking a second to check her hair at the fence gate before letting herself into the back.

A startled gasp escaped as she looked at the yard. "...wow...Scott..."

Lines of paper lanterns were strung across the yard, dimly glowing violet and white. Jars and jars of candles were scattered throughout the yard, perched on the fence and boulders, and grass. Some of the jars were tinted, blown glass; together, they gave-off a kaleidoscope of colors. Two rows of candles marked a path from the gate to a table was set for two, with a set of covered dishes and a bouquet of blue and purple flowers. She took in the yard as she walked to the table. Touching the bouquet of roses, she whispered "Aw, Scott...you remembered...my favorite..." knowing he could probably hear her. This was gorgeous.

-  
Inside, Scott and Stiles watched Alison as she entered the yard. Scott grinned at her initial gasp, smile widening when he heard her whisper. "Of course I remembered..." he whispered back, though she couldn't hear him. Next to him, Scott could practically feel Stiles rolling his eyes. His friend muttered something about Scott's memory needing to be better about other things, but he kindly ignored him in favor of gazing at his (amazing) girlfriend. She was so beautiful, so unguarded, and...happy.

He nudged Stiles with his shoulder. "Hey...we did good, right?"

Stiles threw an arm around his shoulders. "Dude, we did AWESOME. As if there would be any doubt," Stiles replied, huffing on his fingers and pretending to polish them on his shirt.

Scott grinned at that and put his arm around Stiles' shoulders in response. "Thanks, dude."

Stiles shrugged. "Eh, what can I say, I have a gift." He turned Scott so they were facing one another. "Breath check?"

It was Scott's turn to roll his eyes, but he obediently huffed at Stiles' (who, of course, made a dog breath joke). "Yeah, yeah, yeah." Scott said, shaking his head. He pulled Stiles into a hug. "Thanks, man. For everything. I owe you one."

Stiles shrugged again, returning the hug with a tight squeeze. "Eh, who's counting?" One more squeeze and they let go. "So dude, go get your girl. Have fun, enjoy dinner, be sweet and mushy, don't forget the pie, yadda, yadda, yadda..." he said, carelessly waving his hand and pushing Scott out the door with the other.

Scott turned around before opening the door. "Love you, man."

Stiles smiled. "Love you too. Now get out there! Before Alison gets jealous and shoots me with her bow."

Scott laughed in response, opening the door to meet his girlfriend.


End file.
